


His Place

by wickedthoughts



Series: Hearts of Darkness, Hearts of Gold [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abuse, Blood, Blood As Lube, Bottom Sam, Broken Bones, Castration, Demon Dean, Gore, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain, Rape, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood, Top Dean, Verbal Abuse, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 12:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5456552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedthoughts/pseuds/wickedthoughts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam thinks he can save Dean, but the demon has other plans. He'll make Sam understand that there's nothing left to save. By whatever means necessary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Place

**Author's Note:**

> For an anonymous [prompt](http://wickedthoughts1.livejournal.com/18432.html?thread=36608#t36608) I received.
> 
> This is so beyond fucked-up, I'm not quite sure what to say. Read the warnings please, and don't proceed if you don't want to read about Demon!Dean brutally castrating and raping Sam.
> 
> Set during the beginning of Season 10.

* * *

 

Dean Winchester, Knight of Hell, looked down at his defeated little brother. Sam was on his knees, face bent to the floor of the dive bar they’d destroyed in their battle. Sam’s shaking left hand was raised over his head as a pitiful shield while his right remained curled into his chest in its sling. The appeal might have worked on Dean before. Before the Mark. Before his death and subsequent resurrection as a powerful demon.

This was not before.

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” Dean tsked mockingly. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Sam lifted his eyes up to Dean’s. A wide-eyed, supplicating look that would most certainly have made human Dean’s resolve falter.

“Don’t give me those puppy dog eyes, Sammy-boy. They ain’t gonna work on me anymore. You came in here, all hopped-up on demon blood, tryin’ to bring me down with your bullshit, weakass powers. You think I’m gonna let that slide?”

Sam coughed, the aftereffects of the fight taking their toll on him. Dean had the infuriating desire to take pity on him. Even as a demon, the years of being Sam’s guardian and protector were a well-practiced reflex inside him.

“Nah, you stand up and face me. Look me in the eyes, man-to-man, and maybe _then_ we’ll talk.”

Fear flashed in Sam’s eyes. Dean’s ultimatum was nigh-impossible in his current state; right arm in that sling from some previous battle and his right ankle twisted at an obscene angle from his current battle. He made a valiant effort to rise, but crashed back to his knees with a muffled cry of pain. Dean rolled his eyes, and felt them flick to black as he did.

“Yeah, didn’t think so, you little bitch.”

He spat the last word at Sam, knowing it would sting all the more without the usual affection behind it. There would be no reciprocal insult uttered by his little brother in the script of their bizarre terms of endearment. This was not brotherly banter, it never would be again. Dean was free of that bullshit, and his depravity was so beyond the confines of the word _jerk._

“Dean- ”

Sam croaked his big brother’s name, turning those big, bright eyes back up to Dean. They were wide and wet, pain and dismay etched in his pleading gaze, and Dean could feel something inside him fighting to break free. Those last, pathetic human feelings that had made him leave that note for Sam in the first place.

 _“Pick a bloody side!”_ Crowley had bellowed in his face, before Dean had burned that bridge once and for all. He hadn’t realized that Dean _had_ picked a side. Dean chose himself. His own side.

But Sam was making him rethink that choice. He couldn’t have that. He didn’t want that.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Dean kicked Sam in the ribs, taking a rush of vindictive pleasure when he heard them crack beneath his boot. Sam grunted, eyes widening further in surprised pain.

“You got no one to blame but yourself, you know. I told you to let me go.”

“That- aw _fuck!”_ Sam hissed and clutched at his ribs. “That note coulda been from anyone, Dean.”

“Don’t give me that. You know my handwriting by now.”

“Dean, please- ”

Dean kicked him in the side again, harder, and laughed to hear more bones break. Sam bellowed and collapsed, prostrated. He held his ribs with his good arm, groaning into the dirty floor of the bar.

“I told you to shut the fuck up, bitch.”

Dean regarded Sam, mind racing with ideas, each more horrible than the last. He didn’t want to kill his brother, though part of him whispered that it would be the only way he would finally be free of Sam. He didn’t want to kill him, but he wanted to put him in his place. He wanted to show Sam just how little he meant to the new Dean. Take away his power, and the power he’d held over Dean for as long as the demon could remember.

When the perfect, awful idea came to him, he grinned.

“You shoulda left well enough alone, Sammy,” Dean used his foot to roll Sam onto his back. “I’m gonna make you regret comin’ after me. You ruined my life, made it worse than _Hell,_ and now you have the balls to come try and make my afterlife the same?”

He bent down and undid the button on Sam’s jeans, unzipped his fly. He felt Sam tense, struggling ineffectually.

“Dean, what- what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna make sure you don’t ever have the balls to do anything I don’t want you to do again.”

“What- ?”

Dean yanked down on the waistband of Sam’s boxer briefs, removing both the underwear and the jeans down to Sam’s knees with the force of his pull.

“Dean, what the _fuck?”_

Sam asked with indignant shock, trying to move away from Dean’s utterly unexpected assault. He was thwarted by his damaged ribs and his clothes bunched around knees like bindings. The tone of his question made Dean even angrier. He crouched over Sam’s body, face-to-face. Sam looked up at him in confused fear.

“Stop pretending like we’re still brothers, bitch. We ain’t brothers. Never were, really. You were some demon-touched little freak, hangin’ on to me like a parasite. Thinkin’ you were calling the shots, with your big eyes and your emotional meltdowns. Not anymore. I’ve outgrown you.”

There were tears glistening in Sam’s eyes, but there was a sheen of anger there, too.

“Demon-touched, huh? That’s rich coming from you right now, Dean.”

“Nah, I ain’t _demon-touched._ I’m not some half-blood bitch whining about how he wants to be normal, how he doesn’t want the power he’s been given. I’m a demon, Sammy. I know it, and I accept it. Hell, I _embrace_ it.”

Dean reached down between Sam’s legs and grabbed him by the balls. Sam gasped and writhed, but Dean clamped on tighter. Sam’s balls were large; warm and loose in his hand. He could feel his little brother’s frantic heartbeat pulsing through the organs in their thin sac of velvet-soft skin.

“What the fuck are you doing? Let go!”

Sam’s voice was panicked, angry, and pleading at the same time. Dean ignored him.

“I’m not who you thought I was, not anymore, and I’m nothin’ like you. It’s time you figured that out.”

He pulled up, as hard as he could with his demon-strength. Sam’s back arched off the floor, certainly an agony to his broken ribs, but that pain was secondary to the white-hot horror radiating from between his thighs. He screamed, long and loud, higher than usual. A wordless shriek as his manhood was ripped away from him. Blood sprayed over Dean’s chest and face as he stood, holding his prize aloft.

“I have no brother,” Dean growled viciously. Then he twisted his mouth into a grin and laughed, just as viciously, licking blood from his lips. “You’re nothing to me. You belong there, at my feet. My balless little bitch.”

Sam looked up at Dean. Blood vessels had burst in his eyes and tears streamed down his cheeks. Drool fell from his open lips as his screams turned to ragged moans. His left hand clutched at the place where his balls had hung only moments before, trying futilely to staunch both the blood and the pain. His bandaged right arm twitched against his chest, clearly attempting to join the left in its pointless attempt.

“Dean- oh!”

Sam groaned and twisted his torso to the side. Just in time to retch up the meager contents of his stomach on the floor instead of choking on it. When he finished vomiting, he stayed in the awkward position, sobbing into the pool of his blood-tainted bile. The demon was glad he mostly felt disdain for the pitiful, castrated man in front of him, but a small part of Dean still fought against the demon. A small part that was horrified by what he’d just done to his baby brother. A part that screamed at him to help the person he loved most in the world-

He couldn’t fucking have that.

“Dean- ”

Sam choked his name out, and Dean could hear the pleading _Why?_ about to pass from his lips. Sam still seemed to believe he could reach him, save him, despite what Dean had just done to him. Fury clouded Dean’s vision. The demon encouraged it.

“Shut up, bitch.”

He bent down and rolled Sam’s lower body over so Sam was lying on his belly, cheek pressed into his own putrid disgorgement. Dean placed Sam’s detached, bloody scrotum beside his face, right in his line of sight. Sam stared, white-faced and disbelieving. His eyes clenched in misery and he sobbed harder.

“Look at ‘em Sammy,” Dean gave Sam’s bare ass a hard slap, leaving a rapidly fading red mark behind. Sam startled and yelped. “Look what I took from you. _You’re nothing to me.”_

Sam’s eyes focused on his severed testicles once more. His body trembled from shock.

“Now to make sure you understand.”

Dean unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock out through the fly of his boxers. It was soft, but he warmed it up quickly. It filled with blood, anticipating its grim purpose.

“I take no pleasure in this, Sammy.”

Dean knelt down, pushing Sam’s legs apart as far as the clothes around his knees would allow. Sam made a strangled sound in the back of his throat at the irritation of the wound between his legs. Dean looked down at what he could see of his handiwork. At the ragged skin hanging beneath Sam’s wilted cock. Blood seeped from the gash. In fact, there was quite a lot of blood pooled between Sam’s legs. The sight sent more blood surging into Dean’s cock.

“Well, would you look at that?” Dean marveled at the lust he suddenly felt for his own brother. “Maybe I’ll take a little pleasure in this, after all.”

Sam continued to stare blankly at the proof of his inferiority. Dean didn’t know if he was aware of anything else anymore, but he intended to change that. He coated his hand with Sam’s blood and spread it over his straining cock. It would congeal quickly, but he didn’t care. This was not about enjoyment, for either of them.

He pushed his way inside Sam, feeling his brother’s anus contract reflexively to keep him out. That felt good, even with the dry burn with no lubrication. He pushed harder, felt something tear, and found himself buried to the hilt. Sam screamed again, his throat rough and raw. He jerked and twitched underneath Dean, screaming himself hoarse. The demon delighted in the sound, and in the way Sam felt. Pain and power, and it felt good to be the master of himself. His balls slapped against the jagged place where Sam’s manhood had been torn from him. Sam’s power, his lust, pride, and strength, were no more. They were Dean’s now.

When Dean finished, he felt that last human part of him die, buried inside his sobbing, mutilated little brother.


End file.
